Where Butterflies Never Die
by RequiemForTheWolves
Summary: I knew that I shouldn't trust him, that here you couldn't trust anyone unless you wanted to get killed, but he just looked so sad, so utterly desperate that I could feel my resolve crumbling beneath my finger tips. "And why should I trust you?" "We knew each other...I don't know if you could really say when we were young, but in high school." "I'm sorry, but I don't remember."
1. Inhuman Ends

**Inhuman Ends**

It was always painful, the lull in between customers and my next high, when all the colors that had previously been exploding across my vision dulled to a messy gray hue. I was still too drugged to stand, though even if I wanted to I couldn't, what with the handcuffs currently biting into my skin as they held me hostage against the bed's headboard, so I guess that took care of that problem for me. As feeling gradually returned to my body I felt the aches and pains that had been there all along grow, finally making themselves known to me. With a body surprisingly less sticky than normal, I shifted around as best as I could, trying to take some of the tension off of my abused lower back.

I knew that the door to the dimly lit room was being opened when the creak of the hinges resounded throughout the space, sighing at the prospect of the relief that was soon to come in a glass syringe. The drug wasn't addictive, something for which I was incredibly thankful, as the dosage of _rain_ that was ejected into my system varied by the hour. The only reason that I looked forward to it now was to distract me from my aching muscles and help me not to think about the next customer that would be coming in soon.

Expecting to feel the slight sting of a needle in the crook of my arm, it was no small surprise to me when instead my wrists were released from their metal bindings, the absents of the pressure pleasant but still confusing. With the sudden ability to move a lot easier, I craned my head around to find a man with bright green eyes staring down at me far more gently than any customer had in a long time. I was sure that all of this meant something important, though my brain was still far too muddled to attempt to draw any conclusions. With that, all I could manage was, "You're not Meg."

A small flash of white contrasted against tan skin as the man gave a small show of humor. "No, I'm not. But if we stick around long enough she might just make an appearance. I don't know about you, but I'm hoping to avoid that."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, wondering what he could mean by that when large, calloused hands were suddenly under me and helping me off the bed. "Whoa! What are you doing?" I demanded, even if the reaction was a bit later than I would have liked.

"Helping you." He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Like I said, don't want to see Meg again, so we should probably get going." The brunette man shrugged out of the large leather jacket he was wearing once I was properly standing next to him and placed it over my bare shoulders, even the light touch enough to make me wobble uncertainly on my feet.

"And why should I trust you?" I was almost impressed with myself at the point I was able to make while still riding a high, though I supposed years with the drug just made it easier.

"Well, one," the man began talking again as he turned away from me, going to the other end of the bed so that he could push it against the far wall, just under the small rectangle that could barely pass for a window, "I'm trying to help you escape. And two, your only other option is to go quietly back to your cage. Which one would you like?" I blinked at his apparent knowledge of what happened to me once my shifts were over each night and didn't protest anymore, instead slipping my arms through the sleeves of the only defense I would have against the cold night air and taking the offered hand that the man presented to me.

When both of us were standing on the bed with little give of the mattress under our feet, the green eyed man swiftly set to work opening the poor excuse for a window, having pulled out a screw driver from I don't even know where. It didn't take long for him to get it open, exhaust clouded air quickly permeating the basement level room. The man motioned for me to go first, helping my lame attempt to lift myself onto the pavement directly below the small hole. Once I was finally out he followed with much more grace than what I had accomplished, a warm hand on the small of my back leading me toward the end of the alleyway that we had exited into. I was glad for the offered touch, and leaned in to find the support of a strong arm as my knees wavered in their effort to hold me up.

I was somewhat surprised at how effortless that had seemed, and couldn't help but wonder if, had I not been continuously ejected with _rain_ every day, I could have managed it myself. My theory was quickly rewarded with a flat no though when two men dressed in black came around the corner and into the alley, guards for the hell that I had been trapped in coming to take me back. I tensed, wondering if we could possibly out run them when I was moved behind the man's back, him meeting them head on as they rushed towards us.

I wanted to close my eyes, to shield myself from witnessing the beating that the too kind man was about to take on my behalf; I never could have expected him to come out victorious. But that he did, meeting the first man with a right hook that sent his back into the nearby brick wall, grabbing the front of his shirt to keep him pinned there as me met the other with a kick to the ribs. And it was impressive, needless to say, but though the man had quite obviously muscles under his thin, black shirt, was it really enough to take out the two guards?

Of course, having a cheat worked as well, and I didn't dream of protesting as the green eyed man pulled out a gun that had been hidden in his waistband, two shots fired, one in each of the guard's legs. A stream of curses flowed from the wounded men's fowl mouths, blood dripping on the cement from the punctured flesh that would disable them from going anywhere too quickly.

Without need for delay, a large hand was in my own, pulling me quickly out of the alleyway and onto the street. I ran as best as I could, trying to keep up with longer, steadier legs as I was half dragged away from the danger of where we had come. The brunette stopped in front of a sleek, black car, somewhere I assumed was far enough away to be safe. After dropping my hand he leaned against the passenger door for a second, a relieved smile lighting up his face. "Well, that was close."

I quirked my eyebrow at that, wondering how he could go from shooting people to nearly laughing so quickly. "So, are you going to tell me who you are yet?"

"Oh, right." The man said, a hint of sorrow creeping into his tone a bit as he opened the door that he had been leaning against. "I'm Dean."

Without waiting for a response he walked around to the other side of the car, opening the driver side door and making to get in before he stopped. I blinked, glancing at the open door in front of me before back up again. "Come on Cas, get in."

"Cas?"

"Yeah. That's your name, right? Castiel?" I drew the long leather coat closer around me, breath puffing out visibly in front of me as I took a small step back.

"How do you know that?"

Dean sighed, shoulders slumping as something that looked like regret submerged into his green pools. "It's a long story. Trust me, I'll tell you everything. Just let me get you out of here first."

I knew that I shouldn't trust him, that here you couldn't trust anyone unless you wanted to get killed, but he just looked so sad, so utterly desperate that I could feel my resolve crumbling beneath my finger tips. When I finally stepped into the car I figured that if this ended up being a bad idea that I could just blame it on the not very prevalent anymore _rain_ that was still running through my system, though that was only if I needed to analyze my choices later.

Upon closing my door I found Dean digging around in the back seat for something, eventually coming up with some clothes that he tossed into my lap before starting up the car and pulling out. Without needing to be told I did my best to put the clothes on in the small space that the car allowed, wriggling about on the leather seat as I slipped on sweatpants and an old AC/DC shirt that were both two sizes too large. Still, I couldn't remember the last time that I had worn clothes like this, and the soft fabric felt like heaven.

When I was done I threw the large jacket that smelled of motor oil, leather, and faint cologne into the backseat, finally giving myself a chance to look out the window as buildings, tall and gray, sped quickly by. It was sort of surreal, it had already been so long since I had last been outside, much less in a car, the blurred image held my attention for longer than it should have. I knew that we were probably long past the place that had been my prison for far too long, but I still couldn't help but feel like each building we passed was an accomplishment, another step put in between me and _Hell's Den._

Dean let me be silent, waiting for me to break the quiet that had befallen us as he simply drove. And after a while I did just that, dragging my eyes away from the view to rest on the silent man. "So, you said you'd explain. How did you know my name? Actually, why did you even rescue me in the first place?"

He took a few moments to answer, as if contemplating which question to address first. When he finally did speak it was in a soft tone, the melancholy look that he'd had before once again gracing his features. "I know your name because you told it to me. A long time ago."

I narrowed my eyes at the man, hoping that by closely observing his features I could come up with some sort of memory, but unfortunately could find nothing. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember. Then again, that's not saying much. I'd probably forget my own name if it wasn't around my neck." I looped a finger under the worn leather in indication, holding it away from where it rested around my neck, under the small metal plate that read _Castiel_.

Dean's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Is that because of the _rain_?"

I offered up the inside of my right arm, red dots scattered about the sensitive flesh of the underside of my elbow, wounds both old and new. "Every few hours when I'm being given customers, and then again before bed. Still, it differs from day to day depending on what's going on. You know, most would say you're crazy, despite whatever reasoning you may have, to come and save me. Everyone knows that a man given _rain_ as often as I am doesn't live to be very old."

Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles were a pale white. "We knew each other...I don't know if you could really say when we were young, but in high school."

I narrowed my eyes at him again, but this time not in a way that was critical, but skeptical. "That can't be it. There has to be something you're not telling me."

"Look, Cas, we have a long way to go, you should probably rest. No offense buddy, but you look like you could pass out any second."

"And you look like you're avoiding the question. What makes me so important?"

"Cas, listen to me. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise. But right now, you look like you could really do with a few hours. Man, I haven't seen bags like yours under someone's eyes since me and Sammy had a bet of who could stay up the longest. It's a long story, and if I try to explain it to you then you might just pass out in the middle of it." I let out a humph, seeing that this was a battle I likely wouldn't win, and shifted about in my seat in attempt to get more comfortable. Leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window I closed my eyes, soft streams of Led Zeppelin encompassing the car when Dean turned the music on. Really it wouldn't be my first choice in a lullaby, but I honestly was tired, my day having turned out so much more eventful than I had expected it to. So, with a sunset painting the sky outside in vivid colors, I fell asleep to Dean humming himself a melody off key.

* * *

When I awoke to soft sunlight streaming down onto my face and blurring my vision, I had to wonder just how long Dean had driven to come and find me. I blinked a few times in attempt to better take in my surroundings, only to notice that the light didn't come from a car window, but rather a bedroom one, an azure sky dotted with fluffy, white clouds visible through the glass. Looking around, I saw light blue walls brightening the somewhat bare room that I was in, with only a few picture frames and potted plants on shelves and a white dresser. A dark blue duvet was pulled up to my shoulders with soft white linen sheets underneath, and I had to bury my face in a lavender scented pillow in order to muffle my moan of ecstasy that I couldn't hold back at the sensation. This had to be the most godly experience known to man.

I felt as if I could stay in the lightly colored room forever, content with never having to move an inch from the soft bed, but there were faint noises coming in from outside the closed door, possible indications of where I was and who else was here as well. With a moan I dragged myself from the soft covers, finding as I stood that I still had on the large sweatpants and shirt from the night before. With bare feet I was able to pad near silently across the cool, dark wood floor, the absents of any creaking revealing just how new the house still was.

I made it out the door and into a dim hallway when another, larger body suddenly bumped into mine, two warm hands shooting out reflexively to hold onto my shoulders, making sure that I hadn't been knocked over by their bulk. "Whoa, sorry Cas. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

I blinked up at the green eyed man smiling down at me, his features still recognizable with the sunlight that came in from open doorways. "Dean, where am I?"

The hands on my shoulders tightened minutely, not enough to hurt, but what one would feel before being pulled into a hug. That didn't happen though, the other man swallowing instead. "You're safe, Cas. That's all that matters." I furrowed my brows in confusion, wondering how that could be the only important thing to him, but didn't have the chance to voice this before he was speaking again. "Come on, let's go downstairs. I think I hear breakfast."

I didn't question that statement as he led the way to a flight of stairs, taking them two at a time as he bounded down into a brightly lit kitchen, myself only a few steps behind. As we got closer the smell of cooking bacon and eggs grew stronger, two voices blending in with the sound of things frying in a pan.

"Morning mom, Sammy." Dean greeted as he made himself at home in the kitchen, taking a seat at the four person round table next to another man with longer, dark brown hair, a plate of food already in front of him. Dean gestured for me to sit as well, and I hesitantly took the seat next to him, unsure of my place in this undeniably homey atmosphere.

"Morning Dean. Morning Castiel." A pretty blond woman that I could only assume was the boy's mother greeted from where she worked over a stove, the light coming in from the large windows by the table giving her the almost appearance of a halo. "So, what are you boys planning to do today?" She asked in a voice sweet like honey as out of the corner of my eye I saw Dean attempt to snatch a piece of bacon off his brother's plate before getting his hand slapped away.

"Figured we need to get Cas some new clothes, all my stuff's too big for him. And Sam of course is a moose, so that definitely wouldn't work."

"Well, make sure to get a jacket as well, I don't think it'll be getting warmer outside anytime soon." At that she placed a plate of food in front of both Dean and I, steam still rising from the cheese smothered eggs. "Castiel I hope you slept well in the guest room last night. We tried to stay up and wait for you two, but I'm afraid John and I had gone off to bed by the time you came in."

I swallowed as gentle eyes turned on me, a soft smile on full lips as I was gazed at like a mother would her child. But yet, I was fairly certain that this wasn't my mother. Of course, my memories were hazy at best, but I was sure that I could remember brown hair, and if I tried really hard, a voice not so melodic as that of Dean's mothers. Everything around me was happening so fast it was all I could do to take it in, let alone analyze it, but something about this apple pie home life didn't seem quite right to me, almost foreign. How on earth did I even fit in here?

"I'm sorry, but I'm confused. What- … Where even _am_ I?" It was a weird question, I knew, maybe even pushing the envelope a bit as I had been so readily accepted into this happy home scenario, did I really want to mess it up? Still, I had to know, what significance did I hold to these people that would save me from being used as a sex slave and welcome me into their home without question?

Fingers brushed through my unruly mop of black hair, well manicured fingernails scraping lightly against my scalp, and I felt my eyelids droop a bit at how pleasant the feeling was. "You're home Castiel."


	2. Pulling Tides of Clarity

**Pulling Tides of Clarity**

Finding a pair of Dean's jeans that would fit me was an ordeal in itself, each of them slipping with ease off my thin hips. Belts didn't work much either, none with enough holes so that they would be tight enough to preform their task correctly. Finally we settled with tying a piece of yarn around my hips tight enough that it would keep my pants up until I could get new ones, and I put on a large sweatshirt as well that hung well down my thighs. All of the material was cumbersome, but when Dean and I finally stepped outside and my breath created a misty cloud in front of me I was thankful for the clothes' bulk.

It didn't take long for Dean to figure out in the first clothing store we went to that I had absolutely no idea what to buy. Really, I could hardly remember a time when I wore clothes, let alone _what _I wore. There were too many choices, the whole thing was beginning to hurt my head. Thankfully though the green eyed man was quick to catch on, and led me first to where the jeans and then the t-shirts were, also snagging me a sweatshirt and hoodie of my own.

After that came things like a razor and a toothbrush from a different store, things I vaguely remember using before I was drugged up and them done for me. Dean was patient with me throughout the entire tedious process, asking me which colors and styles I preferred and then choosing for me when I didn't know. Throughout the day he would grab my hand when wanting to lead me somewhere, his large and warm wrapped around my own, with callouses that felt pleasant rubbing against my smoother skin. When we walked side by side sometimes our fingers or shoulders would brush, and it was nice, the touch that didn't have to be thought about, that was comforting instead of sexual.

We had burgers at a small diner for lunch, and I had to keep myself from moaning in pleasure when the taste exploded over my tong, juices seeping into even the small crevices of my mouth. The whole time Dean watched me with an amused smile, eating his own burger like a normal person would with curly fries swirled in ketchup on the side. I had gone without fries, the burger enough to make me feel full to the point of bloated. Dean's mother, Mary I had later learned, had already commented on how thin I was, despite the fact that it was no fault of my own, promising to fatten me up in no time with her home cooking. I couldn't complain, she was a fabulous cook, but I could only eat so much before it felt like I was going to explode.

By the time Dean and I got home, each loaded down with various bags that needed to be dropped off in the guestroom, both Sam and the boy's father, John, were still at work. Mary was found in the kitchen making dinner, giving me something to do as I helped her with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and mint carrots. Dean, being the huge help that he was, had grabbed an acoustic guitar from somewhere in the house and began playing it on a chair at the kitchen table, causing Mary to smile when he played certain songs. The whole thing was so warm, so happy, I never wanted it to end.

Of course, it did when first Sam and then John walked through the door, both giving the matriarch of their home a kiss as they entered, but the change wasn't bad. The guitar was put up as conversation took its place, the boys asking their father how his day at the bar he owned had gone. The conversation carried over to the dining room where there was a table large enough to seat everyone and bowls of food could be passed around. The table subject switched over to Mary's day and then Dean and I's before finally reaching Sam.

"What is it you do again?" I asked just as he had finished describing his colleague Ash's hungover phone call to him that morning.

"I'm basically the business end of an up and coming company. A few years ago my friend Ash made this drug, Demon's Blood. We started off small, but we're gaining popularity really fast."

"What is it that the drug does?" I asked before shoving another fork full of mashed potatoes into my mouth, unable to get enough of the starch smothered in butter and cheese.

"It triggers the body to make more adrenaline, making it so that not only do you feel like superman, but your strength and speed are better than normal as well."

"It's hell of addictive too." Dean butted in from next to me, his chair shifted closer than what was probably normal for the table so that every time either of us moved our knees would touch. "Once Sammy's got a customer he's got them for life. Makes me think that he would have done good even before the Crash."

"Speaking of," John spoke up from his position at the head of the table, "I've been wondering how much of the Crash you remember Castiel."

I looked down at my plate, using my fork to shift my carrots about as I tried my best to think back. "Um, I remember the President's assassination. Seeing it on the news and then everyone talking about it. And then being able to hear my parents argue about money from my bedroom. That's about all though."

The dark haired man nodded, understanding. "The President's assassination was what kicked everything off, but the country started going to crap well before then. Unemployment was steadily growing towards Depression status while the national debt increased in millions by the day once it was realized that we couldn't keep ourselves afloat. The crime rate was also higher than it's ever been before, and when the KKK suddenly decided to give everyone a show then people got _really_ scared. The president's murder was what let everything lose; near chaos. Of course nearly directly after that the Vice President was killed as well, and we lost all hope for order.

"The introduction of the drug _rain_ to the market not long after was probably what helped us and what hurt us the most. It gave everything some order, giving us back our economy even in its most basic of forms, the local buying and selling of goods. Things started happening again, subdivisions like this were built, expensive to live in and gated off, where no drugs are allowed to come in. And our future was sealed. After this we can never go back to the way things were." For a few minutes a more somber mood lingered about the dinner table, but was thankfully shattered when Dean began teasing Sam about his newest girlfriend, Jessica.

* * *

I was sorting through my bags of clothes later that night, looking for something to sleep in, when there was a knock on my open door. I looked up to find Dean in the doorway, a smile on his lips as I got up from where I had been kneeling on the floor. "Just wanted to say good-night. And, you know, see if you needed anything."

A smile lit up my own face as well, absolutely infectious. "I'm fine. And good-night Dean." The brunette nodded, turning to leave as I suddenly remembered something. "Dean, wait!" He turned, attentive green eyes back on me once again. "Um, I was just wondering what happened to my collar. I didn't notice it at first, but when I woke up it was gone."

Dean gave a nervous little chuckle, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I, uh, kinda took it off while you were sleeping. Didn't look very comfortable. I thought about burning it before figuring you should be the one to make that call."

I let out a small laugh, much like the other. "Burning it sounds just fine." More awkward, nervous chuckles ensued as Dean lingered in the doorway. "You know, I haven't yet thanked you for all that you've done for me. What your whole family's done. How can I ever repay you?"

It took a few moments for him to respond, at first Dean just staring at me with pained green eyes. But then he was moving, crossing the distance between us in a few quick strides before his arms were around my back, pulling me to him so that his scent of leather, motor oil, and cologne flooded me. It took me a few seconds to relax into the hug, my arms finally coming to rest around the taller man's lower back when I did.

When he spoke his voice was choked, rough but soft in my ear. "Don't you go disappearing on me again."

* * *

The next day all of the boys had to go to work, which, after breakfast and clean up and showers, found Mary and me once again at the kitchen table, looking through cookbooks in preparation for John's upcoming birthday. It was peaceful, when Mary and I weren't discussing something the only sounds coming from the turning of pages or the scratch of pencil on paper when an idea was being written down. It was nice, and I really hated to disturb it, but there were things that I still needed to know about this all too kind family.

"So, I forgot to ask, what is it that Dean does?" The other males in the house had all been in such a rush to leave that morning that it had slipped my mind until the man in question was already gone.

"He's a bounty hunter. A private one of course, there's really no public authority to go to anymore. It seems I can't keep any of my boys out of the slums." She sighed, flipping another page in her book.

"Did it help when he was trying to, um, find me then?"

She looked up at me at that, soft, brown eyes indecisive. "You know, you should really talk to Dean about all of this. You need to know, but it's beyond personal... Still, I guess I could tell you one thing, something he'd probably never admit to.

"You see, when Dean found out you were gone, he became absolutely frantic. He _had_ to find you, to bring you home. He took up bounty hunting because it was a lot of money for not much time spent working, this way not only was he already in the bad part of town where he figured you'd be, but he had time to look for you as well. For four and a half years he obsessed over finding you, and now he's finally found you, and he couldn't be happier. I haven't seen my son smile as much as he does now in a very long time Castiel, and it's all because of you. Because after all of his hard work he was finally able to bring you home again."

* * *

When Dean came home, I nearly tacked him with the force of my hug. He seemed pleasantly surprised by this, catching his balance before both of us were sent hurtling towards the ground, his arms coming up easily around my waist and a smile brightening his features. "Wow, um, hi." He spoke through the chuckles vibrating throughout his chest. "Have a good day then?" When I pulled back a bit to look at his face, green eyes were absolutely shining with joy, and I felt a tug on my heart as it began to beat just a tiny bit faster.

"Better now." I answered truthfully, because yes, my day with Mary had been pleasant, what with small talk and reading and her home made hot chocolate, but really it hadn't taken me long to realize that everything was just a little bit better with Dean nearby.

Dean made a peculiar face after I spoke, and I raised an eyebrow in question. "Cas, are you flirting with me?"

"What?"

"Um, never mind." He seemed to shake himself out of the thought, quickly changing subjects. "So, something smells good in here. What have you and my mom been up to while I was away?"

Seemingly without thought he swung his arm around to rest on my shoulders, using it to lead us into the kitchen. "It's a surprise."

"Oh really?" He beamed down at me, radiating happiness. "Well, I have a surprise for you too after dinner."

Dean did in fact enjoy what I had made him earlier that day, his eyes going wide and his posture becoming a bit straighter when his mom brought in slices of the apple pie we had made. For the next 10 minutes Sam couldn't stop making jokes about how Dean looked like he wanted to kiss me in gratitude, my ears heating up to a bright scarlet until Dean was able to kick him under the table.

After the affair the whole family moved to the living room for Dean's surprise, him having to fool around with an old box TV for a bit as I took a seat next to Sam on the couch, while Mary and John curled up on the love seat together. When he was done he came to sit on the other side of me, an arm thrown across the back of the couch where I was sitting.

When the screen finally sorted itself out, first going blue and then black, it then flickered to life in what looked like an old home video, panning across a fully decorated Christmas tree with wrapped presents placed underneath. A young Sam and Dean of probably about four and eight knelt together nearby, looking about ready to burst with excitement. The screen clicked, showing a break in the tape, and suddenly all of the presents were open, John's voice coming from behind the camera and prompting the boys to show off some of their new toys, when they were done then roaming over to a smiling Mary sitting on the couch, still in a white nightgown.

Another click and there was Dean's 10th birthday; Dean's first day of middle school and Sam's first day of 2nd grade, both dressed in recently ironed uniforms, backpacks slung over their shoulders and nervous expressions on their small faces. Next was Sam's elementary school graduation, then a short clip of all three males throwing around a football in a large front yard. After that were a few of various football games, transitioning from what looked like junior high to high school, and always paying special attention to the quarter back that was no doubt the younger version of the man sitting next to me.

It was sweet, watching the boy's childhoods playing out in front of me, but it wasn't until after I sat through Sam debating the effects of the media on children from behind a mic and podium that one clip caused me to sit up a bit straighter. Dean was shown standing in front of a mirror in the hallway leading to the front door, Christmas music trickling in from the other room as the high schooler adjusted the collar of his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't appear to have noticed the presents of the camera, but he must have heard his father's approach, as he showed no signs of surprise when John began speaking. "_So, who's this boyfriend of yours you invited to the Christmas party again?_"

Dean gave a sigh, eyes still glued to the mirror as he needlessly messed with his short hair. "_I told you dad, his name is Castiel. And no, you can't ask him why his name is so weird. Sam already did that and it wasn't funny._"

John gave a small chuckle anyways at his sons' antics. "_Alright, run that list by me again of things I'm not supposed to ask about._"

By then Dean had moved on to inspecting his skin for any blemishes, obviously about to have an anxiety attack. "_His name, his family, and how far me an' him have gone._"

"_I'm sorry, what was that last one again?_"

"_One that Sammy tried this morning. And the reason that his jaw's still sore._" The boy aimed a warning glare up at his father, but instead blinked in confusion when he found himself face to face with the camera lens. He opened his mouth to say something more, but was cut off by the doorbell, a mop of black hair able to be seen through the small window near the top of the door. "_Shit._" Dean breathed, voice wavering slightly with nerves. "_Dad, put the camera up, that's weird._" He then said a bit louder as he made his way to the door, hands running down his shirt in attempt to smooth invisible wrinkles.

Despite only being able to see the brunette's back, his feelings towards the other boy were apparent the moment he opened the door, his, "_Cas, hey,_" filled with happiness and excitement and slight nervousness. His tone from before was completely gone, in its place the one he only used for the Castiel of the moment. The door was opened fully and the younger version of myself was revealed, one that couldn't be more than 15, but all together didn't look too different from my appearance now. My hair was a bit longer, face a bit fuller, eyes a bit brighter. Still, there was no mistaking the small kid in the large hoodie with a small present clutched tightly in his delicate hands. I couldn't remember this version of me very well, but I looked happy, and that was good enough.

It was only a few seconds later though that Mary's voice could be heard from off screen somewhere, giving a firm, "_John, put it up,_" before the screen clicked.

Next was four boys running about in a blanket of white, a situation that looked like all out war from the way that they were lobbing tightly compacted balls of snow at each other. It seemed as if everyone had split into teams, John and Sam against Dean and myself, each of us getting covered in the cold, white powder as Mary could be heard laughing from where she filmed the whole thing. After that was somewhat the same scene, only this time three boys stood around a snowman that was taller than all of them, complete with button eyes and smile and a carrot nose.

"_Where did you get all the snow?_" Their mother asked, bemused. "_I thought most of it was in your boots._"

"_Mr. Banner let us use some from his yard._" Dean answered, sounding quite proud. "_Cas saw him when he came out to get the paper and asked._" I saw myself smiling a bit timidly next to the taller boy, most likely blushing despite it being hidden by the rosy state of everyone's cheeks due to the cold.

The screen clicked again to be replaced with a table and chairs, balloons tied to practically everything and Dean sitting front and center, a fake crown sitting crooked atop his head. Sam and I both smiled on either side of him, the younger boy talking to someone off screen as I was seen saying something to the birthday boy that the mic wasn't able to pick up what with the commotion coming from nearly all around. Whatever I had said honestly couldn't be judged from Dean's reaction either, as the next thing he did was drag his fingers across the side of the beautiful white cake set up in front of him, the candles on top portraying the number 16, and then wipe the icing across my unsuspecting face. It had been surprising to say the least, but my past self didn't hesitate, instead getting some of my own icing off of a corner to smear across a freckled nose and cheek. By then Sam had noticed what we were doing, all three of us laughing at the mess that had been made.

A click, and Dean was seen sweaty but smiling as he held a football trophy, his red and white uniform and pads still on while there was no shortage of noise from students and parents still going on in the background. He was most likely a junior by then, and metal bleachers could be seen behind him, meaning that he was still out on the field.

"_So, how does it feel to have won your team the championship?_" John's voice rang out above the din, the only way to be heard at all.

The brunette looked down at the achievement in his hands proudly, admiring it as it shone with the bright lights overhead. "_It feels good. It was tough going there for a while, but it was so worth it._"

Someone must have called his name, as Dean's head suddenly shot up before he had an armful of Castiel, the force of the attack hug sending us both spinning about in a 180.

"_You did great!_" My voice somehow managed over the roar of the celebrating crowd, hands still fisted in Dean's jersey to keep him close.

"_Thanks._" He shouted back, his smile somehow even wider than before. There was a beat, and then, "_What? No good job kiss?_"

The Cas on screen flushed, ears turning a bright scarlet before a look of determination came over my face. Having not removed my hands from Dean, I easily pulled the taller boy down, sealing our lips together. Immediately the kiss turned hot and heavy, not in a way that it was too gaudy to watch, and as far as I could see there was no tongue of any sort going anywhere. It was just the passion that was able to be put into one kiss, each partner looking as if, in that moment, they needed each other so much, they could never dream of letting go.

"_So, Cas._" Dean's father said after a moment, and we both quickly pulled apart, my eyes widening as I realized that, not only had John seen the whole thing, but he had video taped it as well. Of course, the best thing to do in that moment was to hide my face in Dean's chest in embarrassment, both of the Winchesters laughing at my expense.

The video clicked to show an entirely different scene next, with Dean's back to the camera as he did up his tie in a mirror, looking as if he were about to go somewhere nice. Sam, in a simple sweatshirt and jeans, leaned over the banister to the stairs next to him, his face also turned so that it was out of sight.

"_Come on, Sammy._" The elder of the two prompted. "_You can still come to winter formal if you want. I'm sure that girl you've been stalking will be there._"

"_Not funny, Dean._" The bitch face was almost tangible in Sam's voice. "_Besides, she says she has to babysit tonight anyways._"

"_Okay, well have fun sitting here doing your homework then. I don't have time to try and convince you anymore, I gotta go pick up my hot date._"

"_You mean Cas?_"

The corners of a smile were picked up as Dean turned to his little brother, him looking immaculate with his crisp white dress shirt and finished tie. "_Exactly, my hot date._"

A click, and Dean and Mary were standing at the kitchen counter, a large book in front of them that the high schooler was quickly flipping through, his mother looking absolutely giddy next to him.

"_So you didn't know at all?_" She asked, smile blinding.

"_Nope, we had no idea. It was completely unexpected._" After a few moments the brunette stopped turning pages, Mary leaning in to better see what he was trying to show her. The camera moved as well, most likely John holding it as it came to look over Dean's shoulder. Printed on glossy paper was a page titled Junior's Cutest Couple, with a picture of both Dean and myself in black and white. From the looks of it we hadn't known it was being taken, my legs on the older boys' lap as we sat on a set of bleachers, hands intertwined and heads leaned in close for a private conversation.

"_I can barely stand it, you two are so cute, Dean._" Mary commented adoringly.

"_That's nice to know, 'cause I'm gonna marry that boy one day._"

Click. The screen went black.

"Cas?" Present Dean asked from next to me, his voice laced with concern. I didn't respond, instead bringing a hand up to wipe at something I could feel bothering my cheek. When I pulled my hand away I was surprised to find it wet.

I was crying.

How could I not be though? Everything suddenly made such perfect sense. Dean taking me from the hell I was living in, bringing me home, giving me clothes and food and shelter without a second thought, as if it should be expected. The enormous amounts of such care as he'd shone me in the past few days, being able to catch him visibly brighten when I walked into the room, his want to be ever closer to me.

"Oh my god." I choked out, voice nearly too thick with emotion to speak through. "You love me."

I heard more than saw the rest of the family get up and leave, having still been staring at my wet hand in shock, them giving us some privacy as Dean leaned in closer to me. "I do."

I looked up to find green eyes attentive on me, Dean having moved in order to better see my face, better gauge my reaction to this new information. "That's why you've done everything you have. Why you've taken care of me. Because you love me."

"I think I've loved you ever since you punched me in the face."

I sat up a bit straighter at that, attempting to wipe all of the tear tracks from my cheeks. I stopped trying when Dean took over, calloused thumbs collecting all of the salt water that was left. "I-I did what?"

"We were in the 10th grade, changing in the locker room after P.E. Apparently I was being a dick, so you punched me for it. I was hooked ever since; couldn't leave you alone, in fact. In a school full of people who were either suck ups or frightened of me you were the only one who would call me on my shit." Despite the description he was smiling, looking almost proud of the notches down I had taken him.

"God." I breathed, seeing the utter devotion that the man gave so freely in his eyes. "How did we ever get split apart?"

The question was obviously a touchy one by the way Dean's expression darkened, but he didn't deny me an answer, couldn't I supposed. "Your parents, they... Well, your dad was a politician, and your mom was a teacher. When everything went to hell they got into debt fast, the dangerous kind, the kind that ended up getting them killed. They lost any sort of help they could get from anyone within the first week after the crash, so they decided to sell you and your sister, Anna.

"Jo, Anna's girlfriend, was able to get to her before anything happened, and I tried to get to you as soon as I found out, I really did. But-" He dipped his head then, unable to look at me anymore, voice saturated with regret. "God, Cas. I'm so sorry. I tried, and I just-. I couldn't get to you in time."

I placed my hand on his cheek, trying to get him to look up at me, trying to stop him from his self deprecating thoughts. "Dean, it wasn't your fault."

"But it was." He brought his own hand up to place it over mine, and I half expected him to remove it from his face, but instead he laced our fingers together, holding them there. "If I had just been a bit faster, none of this would have happened. Nothing bad would have been done to you. I never would have lost you in the first place."

"Dean." I demanded his attention, using my other hand to lift his head up to face me, green eyes full of self loathing as they fixed on me. "Don't you dare blame yourself. Blame anyone but yourself. My parents, the man that bought me, the government, hell, even me. But don't you ever think that this is your fault." He gave me a sad smile, and I figured that was the best that I could get from him at the moment. So, I did what I do best and moved on. "Dean, I know that I can't remember the way that I felt about you, but I'd like to learn to love you like I used to."

After that it became one of those I don't know who moved first moments when we suddenly ended up in each other's arms, Dean's around my waist and mine around his neck as we held each other as close as we possibly could. There was no kissing, no sweet words, we were far too broken for that, and there would be time for such things later. We had both been hurt by my absents, I could see that now. While my body and memory had been tampered with, Dean's heart seemed to have taken a hit as well, leaving us both desperate for the healing that came with the other. But, after everything, it seemed we might actually be okay.

"God I missed you." The words were murmured into my neck, and I held my broken man together a bit tighter in return.


End file.
